The Broom: A Halloween Tale
by The Treacle Tart
Summary: The broom sat quietly in the window of the shop waiting... COMPLETE


**The broom sat quietly in the window of the shop waiting….**

**Much thanks to Portkey.**

**Edited to include some corrections and suggestions from the lovely Angelfeather.**

**The Broom: A Halloween Tale**

**By The Treacle Tart**

"She's a beauty isn't she," the salesman said with a glint in his eye. "Got banged up a bit, but we've fixed 'er up real nice: tightened the bristles, sanded and polished the trunk, reinforced the handle. She's as good as new. No…better than new, and she could be yours for a really reasonable price."

Eric Jaymes eyed the used broom hungrily. It was a Super Nova 16, a classic model that hadn't been made in years. Streamlined with sharp edges, it could turn on a dime and spin in tight spirals, fast and fluid around its competitors. For whatever reason, they had stopped making them. Eric always thought it a crime, something so beautiful should be mass-produced and distributed so the world could see it. It was a piece of art – and it could be his.

Pictures of the SN16, clipped from antique broom magazines and old racing journals, decorated his room at home and school. He had dreamed of owning one since seeing the Wellington Warlock Seeker ride it in the World Cup ten years ago. Nothing but a flash of color and sound, the Seeker chasing the rocketing Snitch, looping through the air, rushing past the screaming crowd, and outracing everyone on the field. No bludger came to close to him, no chaser could keep track of him, and the other team's Seeker could hardly keep pace. Eric had been barely six at the time, but it would be a sight he would never be able to forget, one that would invade his dreams for years to come.

He imagined owning one and leading Ravenclaw to the House Cup for the first time in twenty years. Whizzing by Padma Patil and Lisa Turpin with a smile and a wink, racing Blaise Zabini in his Stratus 2100A and leaving him in the dust, beating Harry Potter to the Snitch, grabbing the golden ball out of the outstretched hand of Gryffindor's star Seeker, were images that he used to daydream about as he sat alone in his room or in the library.

No one would laugh at him while he zoomed around on this piece of perfection. No one would push him around. They would beg him to be on the Quidditch House Team. They would ask for rides and dates, and he would just have to refuse. This broom was his ticket to all the things he deserved in this world. It would cost him his life savings, but it would be worth it because it would actually buy him a life.

He eagerly handed over the bursting bag of Galleons to the salesman, whose gray-toothed smile and red-lined eyes lit up. "You've made the right choice, lad. This is the first one I've been able to get my hands on in a decade. Merlin knows when we'll see another. You're a right lucky fellow."

Eric never considered himself lucky. Luck was one of the things that never seemed to be on his side, unless it was of the bad variety. But - as he held his beautiful new Super Nova 16 tightly in his slightly trembling hand -he couldn't help but feel his luck was about to change.

_______________________________________________________________

The tide of change had already started when he began to walk towards the Ravenclaw Common room. He tried to look nonchalant as he sat in the chair by the fire with his broom and the servicing kit he had bought before he even had a broom to service. He hummed quietly as he lovingly polished the broom's handle, ignoring the murmur of hushed voices that began the minute he entered. They were all looking at the broom, and they were all in awe.

"Is that a Super Nova 16?" Terry Boot asked, his eyes going wide.

"Oh, yeah," Eric replied calmly. "You've seen one before?"

"Only in racing magazines," he answered, never taking his eyes off the broom. "It's an archetype for all the great racing brooms of today, but none have come close to matching it for speed or maneuverability. How'd you get one?"

"Oh, I bought it, found it for sale at a used broom shop. I got it for a song. The salesman had no idea what he had." Eric continued to regale the growing crowd with a story about how he outsmarted the dealer. The younger students looked at him in amazement and envy. Cho Chang asked him if he wouldn't mind giving her a ride someday. Roger Davies reminded him that Quidditch tryouts were at the end of the month. It was just as he knew it would be, as he thought it always should be.

As the night waned, he made his excuses and left the common room. He was at the base of the stairs leading to the dormitory when a wispy, blithe voice floated through the air. 

"That's an old broom." Luna Lovegood, one of his younger Housemates, stared at him with her buggy eyes and her customary vacant expression.

"It a classic," he answered, somewhat harshly.

"If that means it's really old, then that's a good word for it." Her expression never wavered.

"Whatever." He was not about to let Looney Lovegood ruin what had otherwise been an outstanding day. With a curt nod of dismissal, he turned to go up the stairs. His foot hadn't lifted off the first step when she spoke again.

"They are not happy about it."

He sighed as he answered without turning. "Who is not happy about what?"

"The owners of the broom are not happy about you having it."

"I am the owner of this broom," he responded as her turned to face her, his voice rising with annoyance.

"No, those who owned it before you." 

She spoke with such clarity, he nearly forgot she was insane. "How do you know who owned it before?"

"They are standing right next to you?" she answered as if she were speaking to a small, and fairly stupid child.

Her pale skin and translucent eyes were unnerving. Her steadfast attitude and peculiar calm were making him uncomfortable. With trepidation he took a moment to look around him before responding with a haughty, "Are you out of your tree?" 

She blinked once. "If that means that I know the owners of the broom are unhappy you have it, then yes."

He sighed. This was going nowhere. "And why are they unhappy?" he asked, more to humor her than out of any real curiosity.

"Because the broom will hurt you," she stated simply.

"It's a broom and I am a rather skilled flier. I can handle it," he replied with a smirk.

"It will hurt you like it hurt them."

"I can't help it if they didn't know how to fly," he replied dismissingly.

"They are worried about you. They want you to get rid of it."

That's it. He had had enough. "I'll take that under advisement, Luna. I have to go now."

He rushed up the steps and away from Luna Lovegood and her concerned ghosts. When he entered his room he found his roommates awake and dying to hear about his new broom. He quickly forgot about Looney and her warnings. There was nothing bad about this broom. Nothing at all.

_____________________________________________________________________

Eric woke up the following morning to find his broom out of its case and propped up against the window. He was careful to store it away for safe keeping, so to find it out of its container infuriated him. 

"Who touched my broom!" he yelled to his just waking dorm mates.

"What are you on about?" asked Stephen Fawcett, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Who took my broom out of its case." They all looked at each other, waiting for someone to confess. "Out with it!" Eric shouted when no one came forward.

"Calm down, Eric," began Anthony Goldstein, looking annoyed at the accusation and the hour. "You were the one who said he was staying up late to sand the handle. I was the only other person still awake, and I fell asleep while you were still working. No one touched your broom." 

He was not satisfied with this answer. "I put my broom away and now it's out and left carelessly by the window. No one touches it without asking, understood?" This was his pride and joy and no one was going to go near it if he didn't want them to.

There was a murmur of consensus and annoyance among his sleepy roommates. Eric paid them no mind as he gently placed the broom back in its case and locked it with a containment spell. 'Thieves,' he thought bitterly. 'They want to take it from me. I only just got it and they want to take it from me. I need to find some stronger spells to protect it.' 

He left his room with a promise to himself to do some research on warding objects and a promise to his broom that he would come to check on it as soon as he could.

The next morning he found the broom out of its case again, and again he threw another tantrum. By the third morning his roommates had had enough, none of them touched his precious broom and it wasn't their fault if he couldn't remember to put it away properly. 

Eric took to bringing the broom with him wherever he went. He didn't trust his housemates to leave it alone as he asked, so it would just have to be at his side at all times. He took it to class, to meals, and to the detention Snape assigned him for bringing a broom to his Potion's class.

He didn't mind. He had to protect his property.

___________________________________________________________________

Cho Chang had been eyeing the broom for days. All the members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team had been. It was an elegant looking piece of equipment; a sporting masterpiece. Her dark brown eyes followed Eric as he glided through the air, flying around the pitch one afternoon. She sat mesmerized by the broom for over an hour when she finally gathered the courage to ask him of she could give it a test run. 

"I know it's your most prized possession…and I don't blame you for being protective of it…but I don't know if I'll ever see another one in my lifetime. Can I please give it go?"

Eric was torn. He liked Cho enough; she was always nice to him, but she was the Ravenclaw Seeker. She held the position he wanted so very badly. Just the other night, while polishing his broom for the hundredth time, he was telling his roommates how he was hoping to be the alternate Seeker for their team this year. In his heart, though, he wanted to be the starter. He didn't tell anyone that bit of information. No had had seen him play before let alone think him good enough to be starting Seeker. It was only when he was alone with the broom that he dared say aloud how much he coveted the position. His petty reasoning aside, if he would allow anyone to ride the broom, it would be her.

"Sure," he said apprehensively, "but be careful with it okay."

"Oh, thank you Eric. Thank you so much." Cho was giddy as she took the broom in her hands. She mounted it and kicked off soaring straight upward. Eric could hear her giggles as she looped through the air. A small crowd had started to gather and watch the young Seeker spin and twirl like a ballerina in mid air.

Then something went wrong. 

The broom began to buck about. It looked as though Cho was distracted at first, like she might have pulled the broom too hard to the right. It became abruptly obvious she had lost control. The broom was swaying wildly and the small crowd began to gasp and cry out. Someone had run to get help when Cho dipped down as if beginning a descent. Just then the broom lurched violently and she was thrown off. A screaming Cho fell thirty feet onto the wet grass. 

Hours later, after a quick visit, Eric left the infirmary feeling terribly guilty. She had finally regained consciousness but suffered a concussion and a broken leg. Worst of all however, her sight was affected by the fall. Chances were good that she would never play Seeker again. He felt horrible that she fell, worse that it was on his broom. Perhaps what bothered him most of all was the excitement he felt now that the Seeker position was up for grabs. It was selfish of him, he knew, but it wasn't his faulty she fell. It wasn't his fault she couldn't handle the broom.

He had just entered the Ravenclaw common room when he spotted Luna Lovegood. He tried to back pedal quickly before he caught her attention. Without even looking up she spoke: "They said it's starting. They want me to warn you," she said simply.

Eric stared at her for a while. He hadn't the foggiest idea what she was talking about nor did he care. Without a word in reply he left the common room and headed for his bedroom.

__________________________________________________________________

It was a cool Saturday afternoon when Padma Patil found him sitting in the library, one hand on a book, the other on his broom. "Hi Eric," she greeted shyly.

Eric looked up slowly and stared at her a full minute before sputtering an answer. "Hi-Hi Padma." His mouth was suddenly very dry.

"I haven't seen you in the library much lately," she remarked with a small smile.

"I-I've been riding my new broom every chance I get. I guess I've gotten a bit obsessed," he admitted, slightly embarrassed. Recently, he had been preoccupied with the upcoming Quidditch tryouts and his chances of making the team. Every spare moment, and many he really could not spare, was spent riding the broom.

Her smile widened. "I've seen you riding it. It looks like fun. Your broom is beautiful."

They would talk about the broom for a bit and then move on to classes and classmates, teachers and families, everything and nothing. After nearly two hours, Eric had forgotten completely about the broom and was concentrating heartily on the golden flecks that glittered in the green of Padma's eyes and the scent of honeysuckle that seemed to follow her. They made a date to meet for dinner later that evening. 

Eric forgot to bring his broom.

The meal passed quickly. Eric and Padma went for a walk afterwards and found themselves sitting by the lake. He felt so comfortable with her, so…normal. Besides being bright and beautiful, she was incredibly sweet and had a soft, giggly laugh that gave him gooseflesh. He tried to make jokes whenever he could just to hear that laugh.

He had watched her from afar for years, content with the little smiles she gave him when their eyes met. To be sitting by the lake, talking to her was more than he could have ever hoped for. When she reached her hand over to take his, he was so overwhelmed he nearly wept. His courage grew exponentially, as the adrenaline coursed through his body. Feeling more confident than he ever had in his life, he leaned over and gave her a small kiss. Her lips were as soft as they looked, and he felt them curve into a smile when they touched his.

Eric returned to his room to find his broom propped against a window again. This time, however, it was against the window at the far end of the room; the window facing the lake. He found it odd and was slightly annoyed, but with his lips still tingling from where they touched Padma's, he really didn't care if anyone touched his broom or not. Not even bothering to move the broom, he threw himself on his bed. That night he dreamed of golden-green eyes and honeysuckle.

_______________________________________________________

For nearly a week Eric forgot about his broom; he forgot about everything except for Padma. He hadn't thought about flying or classes or anything else. All he wanted to do was make her laugh and see her smile, but the Quidditch tryouts were quickly approaching and Eric needed to practice if he was to have a serious shot at making the team. He asked Padma, a bit sheepishly, if she wanted to watch him train, and was thrilled when she agreed. The thought of her watching him sail through the air on his new broom sent shivers through him. Could it be any more perfect?

The broom was propped next to the window facing the Quidditch pitch. He had stopped wondering who was moving it around a long time ago. It was just someone's idea of a joke and lately he found everything funny. With a grimace, he noted he hadn't polished the broom since he started seeing Padma. In truth, he hadn't thought much about it since he started seeing Padma. She had a way of outshining everything else in his life.

He ran down the stairs, his broom clutched in his hand, when he almost collided with Luna Lovegood. Though he came to within millimeters of crashing into her, she barely flinched.

"It doesn't like her," she said coolly.

Eric was growing sick and tired of her cryptic - and frankly ludicrous - remarks. "What doesn't like whom?"

"Your broom, of course. And Padma."

"Padma likes the broom," he remarked with a creased brow.

"But the broom doesn't like Padma."

"Luna, it's just a broom. It hasn't got feelings or thoughts or anything. It's just a stupid broom." With one last sigh of annoyance, he brushed past her and ran looking for Padma. He found her sitting on the pitch, on a blanket with her books splayed around her.

"Hi there," she greeted with a wide grin. "I've missed you."

"I've only been gone twenty minutes," he replied coyly.

"It's long enough," she said as she craned her neck towards him. He leaned in and kissed her waiting lips.

"Ready to see me fly?" he asked excitedly, as he thrust his broom toward her to admire.

"Ah yes, the famous broom. It is just lovely, isn't it?"

"Not as lovely as you." That earned him a giggle. "Hey, you want to ride it?"

"Can I?" Her eyes widened at the possibility.

"Of course," he said, earnestly, handing her the broom.

She held the broom for a moment before mounting it and kicking off. Almost immediately, Eric knew something was wrong. She was shooting straight up. He could see her body trying to pull the handle of the broom back, but to no avail. The broom just kept rising higher and higher. Eric stood in stunned silence as he watched her struggle with it, fighting it for control. 

His mind raced, urging him to run for help, but pure fear kept him rooted to the spot. The broom continued to pick up speed and he looked on in horror as Padma's body began to slip off its base. Without warning, the broom stopped, pivoted sharply, and began a nosedive straight down. He watched helplessly as the broom came careening towards the ground with Padma's frantic screams filling the air. 

He blacked out when the heard the sickening crunch of breaking bones.

_________________________________________________________________

The waning moon peered at him from the window of the infirmary when he finally awoke. Eric's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim lighting. The ward was empty, encased in an eerie silence.

He sat up gingerly and looked around for some clue as to what was happening. Madame Pomfrey was no where to be found. Slightly disoriented, he got up and went out into the hallway where he saw a dim light coming out of a room at the far end. He slowly made his way towards the voices emanating from inside.

"…lucky to be alive, there's severe head trauma and half her bones are shattered."

"Any idea what happened?'

"No one knows. The boy was unconscious several feet away. Near as we can figure it, she went for a flight, lost control, and crashed. And would you believe it, the broom barely got a scratch on it."

Eric could hear no more. With tears screaming down his face he ran out of the infirmary and towards the Ravenclaw tower, all the while Luna's ghostly words repeating in his head: "They said it's starting. …It doesn't like her."

Without knowing how he got there he entered his room. His house mates were dead asleep when noticed his broom leaning on the wall next to his bed. With a quaking hand, he grabbed it and quickly left. He didn't understand what was going on, but he knew the broom had caused it. He had to get rid of it. It had to be destroyed.

"I don't know what you are, or what you want, but I won't let you hurt anyone anymore." He thought of burying it, of taking an axe to it, of setting it on fire. Anything to get rid of it. Then suddenly the broom started to burn red hot in his hand. With a yelp of pain he dropped it to the ground and watched, horrified, as it began to float and hover in front of him. 

Like a bullet, it shot through the air and headed towards the Forbidden forest. With a broad twist, it turned to face him. The chill in the night sky stung the raw skin of his singed hand. He cradled it the crook of his arm as he faced down his broom. When it started to move towards him, he began to run.

With every bit of strength he possessed, he ran. He was almost at the door of Hagrid's hut when he was knocked to the ground. The broom began to strike him: his head, his leg, his stomach, his face. His unheard cries rang out in to the dark night as his arms flayed about in a vain effort to block the blows. In one last attempt to stop the beating, Eric grabbed the handle. The broom jerked upward and he found his hands stuck to it. To his terror, found himself being lifted off the ground.

The broom began climbing into the air as he hung below it, struggling to right himself. With all his might he swung his leg over the side until he was sitting upright upon the rocketing broom. It twisted and turned beneath him, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't let go. The broom began speeding over the forest and toward the neighboring mountainside. 

The mountain loomed in front of him, growing larger and larger as the broom headed straight toward it. His eyes stung with tears as the broom raced faster and faster. Eric's scream caught in his throat as the watched the mountainside rush up to meet him. 

There was a bone-crushing crack. A flash of light. Then nothing.

_________________________________________________________________

Jonathan eyed the classic broom hungrily as it sat in the display of the used broom shop.

"She's a beauty isn't she," the salesman said with a glint in his eye. "Got banged up a bit, but we've fixed 'er up real nice: tightened the bristles, sanded and polished the trunk, reinforced the handle. She's as good as new. No…better than new, and she could be yours for a really reasonable price."

_Finis_


End file.
